When The Letter Says
by Krustybunny
Summary: Graham grew up alone. Military was the easiest thing to fall into. But when orders come to ship out, knowing he has no one back home to miss him digs too hard. When he runs into a girl at a diner, he can't help but ask for a huge favor. Influenced by "Traveling Soldier" by Dixie Chicks. Gremma fic. If you know the song, you know where I'm going with this. T for now.


It was graduation day. Though not like you'd expect. No diplomas or questions about being eighteen yet or where they might be going after this. This was the Marines. They already got their Eagle and Globes. They already received their orders for their next training locations based on their MOS. The pomp and circumstance of this affair was for the families. And for that reason, Graham had just spent the better part of a few hours out in the sun. Officials speaking, songs playing, strangers staring out at them all, waiting to give hugs and congratulations. At the end, the families and friends gathered rushed to their loved ones. Graham only walked across the parade deck. He had no one. Never bothered him much. People weren't really his thing. Any friendships he might have made were currently being smothered in affection and sun lotion. He only made his way back to his barracks to change into his civvies. He was starving and something greasy sounded fantastic right now.

"Humbert! Hey man, heading out already? Family already gone? Trying to head off the traffic right?"

"No family Olson." Graham shifted on his feet with his bunkmate blocking his path. Olson was a good man, but Olson came from a huge family. Cousins all over the place, divorces and re-marriages creating more and more to call his own. Not having someone around was a concept past his understanding. Graham was always reminding the kid that family wasn't a blessing everyone had. To be completely honest, Olson wasn't the smartest in the bunch either. He managed to be the acronym of MARINE (Muscles Are Required Intelligence Not Expected) in the friendliest way possible. But having to constantly remind the idiot that Graham was alone in the world, was a chaffed spot on the ego. Graham fixed a glare to Olson.

"Oh yeah... right... sorry Humbert."

Graham sidestepped his bunkmate, walking away from the chaos behind him. Marking twice now, that Graham had sent a small "thank you" upwards that they weren't getting stationed together. Olson was a grunt, and that meant some POW training and then off to whatever Middle Eastern country that was acting up or asking for help training its own forces. Originally, Graham was headed to sniper school. He was at the top of his unit during boot, and in the top 5 of the graduating class. But it was soon discovered that as good as he was at that, he was better with animals. So he was volun-told to change to IDD training by his C/O. Within that week, his new destination and MOS was handed to him with little fuss and far too much paperwork. So instead of staying in Lejeune -with maybe heading onto Quantico if he excelled more, Graham was making his was to Yuma, Arizona.

But first, he had a couple of days leave. And he planned on being outside base boundaries, out of uniform, and wolfing down as much carb and grease filled food he could buy. Starting with a fat burger and fries. Maybe a shake or three. So it was in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt of The Lost Boys -bought at one of their concerts- and some blessed tennis shoes. (Really you have no idea how wonderful those things are after months in the same boots)

The farther away from the Camp gates Graham got, the hungrier he felt. There is absolutely nothing wrong or bad with mess hall food. It's actually decent food. But when the bad stuff is denied for so long, it calls to you like a dinner bell. And his particular dinner bell was sounding from six blocks away. McDonald's and Burger King were closer sure, but he wanted actual food. He wasn't THAT desperate. At four blocks, Graham was passing a convince store. The summer sun and humidity of the south-eastern coast were suddenly hotter and heavier, forcing him inside to get some water. It was empty except for the cashier and a blonde ponytail moving slowly through between the racks. A quick look passing her and Graham couldn't tell if she was fifteen or nineteen.

_Which is jail-bait by default. Moving on... shame... kinda cute._

Which is why Graham stole another look on his way to the register. Just as she slipped one of those pound cake things into her purse. A voice told him to mention something to the man at the counter. Another voice told him to talk to her and convince her that putting it back was the better thing to do. Graham ignored both voices. He was a Marine, not the police. And he wasn't sure if the girl was stealing for fun or need. Graham understood that need all to well. He paid for his water, and left the place without saying a word. He wasn't even two buildings away before he heard shouting behind him. Turning to see a streak of blonde hair race past and the cashier screaming obscenities from the sidewalk in front of his store.

_Still not my problem._

But Graham wasn't going to leave it alone either. He made his way to the end of the block and turned right, following the sidewalk. Two more buildings, a right down the alleyway, and Graham found the pretty blonde girl braced against the wall with her lower back. Bent over -hands on knees- trying to catch her breath.

"Hey..." She startled at his voice, jumping away from the wall. Her hands were held up, trying to ward off any advance he might make. Definitely not a fun adventure of hers.

"Don't touch me!"

Graham held up his hands now, mirroring the shaking girl in front of him. Graham figured it was a nasty combination of adrenaline and hunger. Her eyes were wary behind glasses that looked both dated and a size too small on her head.

"Not going to. First time?"

"First time what?" Shaking and scared she might be, but Graham smiled inwardly at the bite and strength still in her voice.

"Stealing to eat."

She stilled. As if the shaking was purposeful, or she has passed the ability for even that much motion. "You a cop? You have to tell me if you are."

"Not the police. Nothing like that at all."

She looked him up and down, only with her eyes. Body held tightly in its spot. He was reminded of deer hunting and the posture a doe would take when humans were scented. "No, not my first. Done it lots of times."

"Right..." Graham lowered his hands. "Well, he didn't follow you, and we would have heard the sirens by now if the police were taking it seriously. I think you're safe for now."

Mirroring him now, the girl dropped her hands. Straightening her shirt, while her eyes shifted back to her bag. Decidedly closer to Graham now that he had scared her into jumping away from the wall and further down the alleyway. So he picked it up.

"That's mine!" She shouted as she reached to grab it from him . But Graham was taller and held it up, well out of her reach.

"My name is Graham."

"Good for you. Give me my bag back!" She jumped for it again, in vain.

"How old are you?"

"Why do you care?" She huffed, hands now making their way to her hips.

"Do you want this back?"

"Eighteen." Graham popped an eyebrow and stared her down.

"Fine! Sixteen, now give it back." This time she simply held out her hand for her property.

"Do you have a name?"

"Of course I do."

_Full of spit and vinegar. Too bad the age kept her on the no touchy list. Like this one._

But it was starting to click together. Her attitude, her hunger, her jumpy reactions to authority and strangers. "Foster system?"

If she was still before, she was stationary now. And wary her eyes may have been, were now outright squirrelly. Shifting to behind him, looking for anyone else to help hold her as they packed her into a cargo van or SUV for transport.

"Are you here to take me back? I won't go back! I'd rather be starving on my own, than starving in the system."

"No. Nothing like that. Just can tell." Graham lowered the bag to her face level, but held tight when she grabbed it. "I'll make you a deal. You tell me your name -and the real one- or you come with me for the next hour. I was headed for a burger. Could get you one too. Save that cake for another time. And before you say it, no. Nothing pervy intended. I want nothing back. Just trying to help."

"Nothing is free. Everything has a price. This would cost me in some way."

"It'll be more or less a chunk of your pride. But nothing more." But it was obvious that a sixteen year old girl still in the system wouldn't buy that line. Truth or not. He'd have to give her some of his pride too. "I was in the system after I turned ten. Just trying to help one of my own. Your name, or a free lunch. Your call."

Her eyes locked on his. Steady and searching. All sense of fright gone from them. It was then Graham noticed the shade of green they were. Soft and sage with whiskey in the middle. And she kept them hidden behind glasses that didn't fit.

"Swan."

"What?" He'd hit himself later for getting lost like that. He was technically grown now. And she had him dazed like it was Jr. High all over again.

"Emma Swan." His grip had loosened in his daze -another thing he'd hit himself for later- and her grab for the bag was successful this time, running past him down the street once again. A blur of limbs and golden hair.


End file.
